


magdalena

by Psuedorabbit



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Bondage, Bottom Dadsona, If You Wanna Call It That, M/M, Nude Photos, Roughhousing, Trans Dadsona (Dream Daddy), daddy dating simulator, dadsona really really loves this man, ddaddy, ddads, dream daddy - Freeform, dream daddy: a daddy dating simulator, he wants to please him, robert nuts on his face, theyre sent to mary tbh, top robert, wrists bound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 14:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11761608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psuedorabbit/pseuds/Psuedorabbit
Summary: request: i would cry tears of joy if u wrote some dadsona/robert with bondage and trans dadsona? (preferably with bottom dadsona who likes being called a good boy bc i love projecting lmao)





	magdalena

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first dd fic and you can actually tell where i picked up writing halfway through the story but i think its better from halfway all the way down to the ending but im not changing the beginning and i havent proofread but im gonna read this later and fix it so i suppose you guys have that going for you  
> i really really like robert and i wanna write for joseph eventually and i am going to RUIN him so heads up

“ _ Robert,”  _ the words are rushed from your throat as fast as your spine is against the rough wall of your house. Warmth is spreading on your hips as firm hands are carelessly dragging up and down the bone and just below your ribs. You're a little ticklish, and you still break out in goosebumps when he touches you here but you don't want to tell him to stop. Maybe he'd laugh at you. Maybe he'd tickle you some more, figure out how much of a wuss you are to another's touch where there generally isn't any but your own.

Robert lets out a low sound in his throat, one that makes your skin break out into bumps once more and your lids to fall shut. It was already dark in the house, but with you shutting your eyes completely you've become more aware of the stubble dragging up the column of your throat and canines hooking into the flesh stretched above tendons.  _ Oh _ . Amanda would  _ surely _ notice-

“I can hear your thoughts from here. Shut up.” Of course he could. Your hands are rested against his chest, gently squeezing at firm muscle above his shirt, slip up slowly to drag down the shoulders of his jacket and the sleeves down his elbows until it falls with a crumpled thump behind him, abandoned. 

Your jaw is partially open and you click it shut, tip of your tongue dancing behind your teeth as you draw away to shrug your own jacket off without a care. Robert's hands aren't on you anymore and you're going to ask what's wrong but again, you quiet yourself and your eyes scan his figure within the dark parlor. He's got his back to you, making his way to what you assume is the bedroom. Right, a man of few words.

You follow him and much like ten minutes ago your back is against the wall. A little more of this and you're surely going to feel it all in the morning. Then again maybe you wanted to. Maybe Robert wanted you to feel it. Maybe you were just mentally rambling once again.

His hands are hotter than they were when they were shielded by your thin shirt and they may as well have branded you. He slips his hands up to your chest, you resist the urge to press into his touch. Not yet, you don't wanna seem needy. Does Robert like needy? You don't really know.

Your hands are smaller than his, you doubt they would be changing anymore, but they fit perfectly around Robert's tense forearms. You rub over the soft skin slowly, noticing the difference in texture; his hands were callused, littered in scars. They felt  _ wonderful  _ in more ways than one.

You both shift enough to pull your own shirt over your head, and you weren't going to lie, you were still shy about your newly..  _ Formed _ , figure. Damien was still being your support buddy, writing letters to you asking how the T-shots are treating you, how your scars are fading away with the sworn cream that he bought for you. Now was not the time to think about Damien you remind yourself, arms coming up to wind around Robert's neck. Your hands rest at the base of his neck, fingers tangling into coarse, smooth hair. It feels freshly cut, the strands rubbing pleasantly against your fingertips. Your mouths fumble together a little too eagerly and you smile into the kiss when you accidentally bump your front teeth together. You think he's smiling too.

It's a little after slow presses of kisses does Robert break away. His hands are on your belt buckle and easily undoes it. “You're cute, you know.”  _ Cute for what? What did I do?  _ You smile up at him anyways, lean up a little more to press yourself chest to chest with him, hips arched against his.

“You're not too bad yourself, sweetheart.” He mirrors your smile, stepping backward with you in grasp. He turns, the backs of your calves hitting the box spring and you're pushed into the mattress with everything less than gentle. It rouses your hair, hand coming up to brush it into place. You think it's in place.

Your eyelids are lowered, gaze settling up at Robert between your knees which you easily part wider to allow room for his gait. His hands settle on your knees, stroke over the rough fabric before coming up the insides of your thighs. You're tense, he doesn't remove his dark eyes from yours. A prey caught in line of sight, stalked and ready to be pulled in for the kill.

You raise your hips as your jeans are dragged down taut muscle and onto the floor. Robert is dropping his own but nothing more. He's on the bed, positioned between your legs and you lean back further as he's hovered over you.

“You look like you're planning something. Show your stripes, tiger.” A terrible pun, and it shows when Robert's demeanor doesn't even flicker. He doesn't say anything, you didn't really expect a good response, if at all. But you're surprised when his reply comes after moment after, when one hand is pushing against your chest, increasing pressure with his weight against you. You can hardly breathe, but your mouth still quirks upward lazily.

“Good boys don't speak unless spoken to. Didn't your mother ever teach you that?” You bite the inside of your bottom lip, hesitate before you shake your head that  _ no _ you haven't been taught that. As a matter of fact, you were quite the chatty Cathy when you were young. Anyway, your response earns you a low chuckle. A slow head tilt and more weight pressed against your chest as your jaw instantly drops, instinctively trying to draw in a breath. The weight remains for a few more moments before it's pulled away. You were sure he could feel your erratic heartbeat, how could he not?

“Someone's gotta teach ya, I suppose. Raise your arms, boy.” You inhale slowly, arms even slower to obey but you do anyway and your wrists are met with the cool headboard. Robert's rummaging through some clothes on the floor, pulling out a black bandanna. It's wrapped around your wrists without much pretense and you can feel the sting of the rough fabric dragging across the insides of your wrists. You wriggle them, just to make sure. Pain shoots up your nerves and you bite your lip harder. How would you explain this to Amanda? Well, you’re a grown man, you can do what you want. 

“You act like I’m going to run away.” A rather large hand wraps itself around your jaw and the majority of your face in a tight lock, ceasing your jaw from moving and even producing a dull throb of pain along the areas where the skin is thinner and the bones beneath your skin jut out just a hair more. Robert stares down the bridge of his nose, overlooking your features as you were to his. 

“Not even five minutes in and you’re breaking the rules. You’re a wild guy, huh?” He taunts, and you can see the glimmer in his eyes. His free hand is slipping between your thighs, shamelessly rubbing at the apex of your legs. His fingertips hook into the fabric, alternating between dragging pressure to soft strokes. It isn’t long before you’re rocking your hips, a pleasant warmth spreading across your chest and stomach, canting your pelvis upward. Surprisingly, the touches continue, and you’ve just began to struggle to keep your breathing in a normal rhythm when he removes his touch. 

Keening, you curve your spine upward, head lolling to the side and eyes fluttering open-- when had they closed?-- Robert’s aiming for your underwear, slowly pulling them down and off much like he had your jeans. Goosebumps riddle your skin, your thighs parting wider for him. Robert seems to be enjoying the view, if the clouded look in his eyes means anything. He reaches forward, tracing rough fingertips around your cunt, not quite touching anything sensitive but you react anyways, shivering. It was ticklish, it was intimate, and you felt like a piece of meat on display. You’re watching as he presses his middle digit past your folds and curls it, making your hips twitch. The hand on your jaw is loosening, dropping itself to the base of your throat. It squeezes intensely for only a second, before slipping down to your solar plexus. To your naval. Finally to the inside of your thigh, and he hikes it up over his shoulder. You hadn’t noticed that Robert had also rid himself of briefs and you were both in the beginning stages of becoming one, once again.

“Want me to touch you, baby? Why don’t you point to daddy where you want me?” Now that was  _ cruel. _ Cruel because you couldn’t do more than wiggle your wrists and shimmy your hips. Robert has a look of sick amusement glaring in his eyes, and it makes your chest tighten. You gnaw at your bottom lip to the point of injury, copper invading your taste buds.

Robert clicks his tongue, hand coming up to stroke over the thickness of his beard as he simply stares at your sex, at your thick thighs and positioned hips. “What’s wrong? Gonna be a bad boy?” He taunts, both hands clapping down on your inner thighs hard enough to make your whole figure jerk upward. Jaw slack and eyes widening though you saw nothing but white. Robert takes fine pleasure in this, stroking wide hands over the reddening skin and  _ squeezing. _

You shake your head quickly, fingers trying to point downwards even if they couldn’t move very much. Robert’s hands fly over your chest, and you’re getting antsy. That’s very obviously not where you want his hands to be and he  _ knows it  _  but he wants to be  _ coy  _ and  _ teasing _ and quite frankly you’ve had enough. How good of a boy does one have to be, exactly? Well, depends on how many fireballs Robert’s had. Currently, he was at five. His kisses tasted just like the afterburn of it, and you normally hated fireballs but they were.. Okay. They were okay when they were tasted from Robert’s palette for your own greedy one.

“Ah, this must not be it. Lower, probably?” You nod because of course, why wouldn’t you want him lower. The feeling alone of rough heat dragging its way down your sternum and stomach was enough to send another round of chills through your body. You could almost feel your clit throb with need, and you hadn’t even been touched there yet. If you tried hard enough, you could feel phantom touches against your sensitive spots as if they were real. It was real enough to pull a low moan from your throat, sparking more interest through Robert.

His fingertips are playing against your clit, rubbing in slow, gentle circles at first. It’s enough for you to sigh into the quiet ambiance around you two. You swallow some sentence that would have been just as good as word vomit, Robert’s voice ringing through your ears about dreaded smalltalk. Besides, you weren’t supposed to speak anyway. You wonder if you’ll end up babbling like a little baby again. Robert seemed to like that kind of smalltalk..

The more you were stroked the more you couldn’t sit still. The more hypersensitive you were to the sensation of slickness dripping down your anatomy and between your ass. You were certain there would be a substantial amount staining the black sheets and really-- if you knew you were going to be banging someone, let alone Robert, on almost a daily basis, you would have picked a different color bed set when you moved with Amanda. Black seemed like a good idea because it went with everything, and you couldn’t have possibly foreseen this. Blasphemy. 

A digit is pressing into your more than willing cunt, all the way down to the last knuckle and isn’t shy about curling, crooking against your walls like it had a map embedded inside of it. You’re absolutely crooning, a sly little smile pulling at your mouth as you rock your hips to the rhythm of the slow pumping in and out of you, toes pressing into and curling against the smooth sheets. You want nothing more than beg for another finger, and another, and one more and-- 

Three digits are now scissoring inside of you, Robert knows you can take it, you aren’t fragile. You’re arching off of the mattress, biceps flexing and wrists bending against each other, against the sandpaper binds preventing you from grabbing the other man like a vice. You’re glad he hasn’t blindfolded you, because it would absolutely be tortuous to have such a man in front of you,  _ inside of you, _ knowing you couldn’t reach out and touch him, let alone bask in his beauty. 

Robert never seen himself as much of anything, never saw himself fit as anything anyone would want to love more than a one night stand. He thought the new daddy in the neighborhood would be like the others. A suave conversation leading to the bedroom. However, you denied him immediately. You chastised him and even though you did so in a teasing manner, you still reminded him of how much your budding friendship meant more than a petty fuck or in the moment lust. He’s followed you like a puppy ever since. You have him wrapped around your pretty little finger, but you want nothing more than to scoop up this mutt of a man and show him that lust and love are two different things. Relationships aren’t one sided and there’s a push and pull of them that should have more good than bad. 

Robert keeps a steady pace on your clit and you can see sharp teeth pulling at his bottom lip, eyes averted and focusing between your legs. Skin glistening, reddened skin sucking his digits in just as eagerly as the man controlling them are. He can’t wait to just shove himself inside and really, neither can you. You would be more than happy for him to use you the way he wanted to, but he wants to take his time. Val just left yesterday and he’s feeling a little lonely. He doesn’t want to go home yet. You don’t want him to either.

Your eyes fall to nothing more than slits, enough to see the sunset casting shadows over his thick build. You think he’s starting to beef up, but that could also be your imagination. Or maybe he’s kicking cryptid ass in the woods. You grin wider at the thought, hooking your calves around his hips and dragging him closer forcefully.  _ There’s your incentive, Robert, _ you think almost bitterly. Such a wrong time to play shy.

There’s no need for lube, you’ve decided before that it isn’t necessary for a condom anymore. You’re ready, you  _ need him. _ You can feel his hips aligning up with yours, heat and coarse hair causing delicious friction to play at your nerves. Robert leans over you, hands on either side and his nose is gently bumping against yours. You can smell his cologne just as if he put it on a mere second ago, and it makes your thoughts turn to static. You’re quick to press kisses anywhere you can, saving his mouth for last. He murmurs a, “you missed your target,” just before you get to his lips. They’re hot, ignited with erotic need and just a tad bit spicy. You kiss him like your life was settled on his tongue, desperately trying to grasp at it and take it back.

But.. If you couldn’t get it back, you suppose that was okay. Robert imprinted on your life too harshly to not want to give your life to him if the time called. You would do anything for this man, be anything for him. You’d use the knife he’d given you to cut out your own heart and shove it down his throat if he had a single bad thought about himself. To remind him that you were there, that you’d love him no matter what. No matter how many whiskies he orders, no matter how many vices he gives into and lies he tells. It’s all part of a carefully crafted basket that’s finely aged like the whisky you too, sip at the bar, at his house.

Robert breaks the kiss first, burning lips mouthed against your jaw and you think you hear words but it all comes together when you can put the puzzle together. “ _ Are you ready? Such a good boy, showing me how much you love me. How much you want me. Can’t wait to feel me inside of you, on top of you and giving you my love. Such a good, good boy,”  _ And he goes on, mumbling utter nonsense and breaking his own rules by spewing smalltalk and it couldn’t be  _ sexier. _ Especially when he carries on with his cockhead pressing against your cunt and only with your nod of approval does he push in. It’s comfortably tight, radiantly hot and you can feel every twitch and pulse as you clamp your walls around him. Rock your hips and tighten the legs around Robert’s hips.

You accidentally moan out Robert’s name, but it seems to be okay because the only thing he does is fit his mouth against yours and start a sequence of thrusts that differentiate in speeds and depths. Tongues slip against the dips of teeth and run along slickness of each other and the smooth skin stretched tight over gums and you can’t seem to get enough of his taste. Enough of his entire being, his scent, his touch, his warmth. You can very nearly feel the edging of his tough guy facade and you find joy in ripping it to shreds like the wall of a house under renovation. You rejoice in this new- no, in this  _ hidden _ part of this gruff man. This part was always here, always cowering behind blackness and thick walls built big enough to not let anyone hear it scream or see it thrash for someone to save it. Except for you. You were there and you freed it and you can’t say you’ve ever seen such a beautiful man inside and out. He had flaws, you had flaws, even  _ Joseph  _ had flaws and it showed when he invited you to Margaritaville. You loved Robert’s flaws the most.

You’re practically vibrating with emotion, with arousal and the pain in your wrists feels more like a memory rather than an ongoing event because you’re  _ drowning _ . You know your chest is heaving, you can feel your heart against your ribcage as your hips are gripped with blind strength and used over, and over, and over again. You can’t help but feel like a rag-doll and there’s a little drool collecting at the corner of your widely stretched open mouth, adorning your own sinful grin. Hair flying against your forehead and your brain making your head feel a little fuzzy as you’re brutalized and rocking back and forth against the bed. You can’t help but wonder how your bones are going to treat you tomorrow morning, but then again, you couldn’t really give a damn when you’re given a good fucking like this.

Your orgasm brings the both of you to a surprise. By the time you feel it coming on, it’s already dripping around his cock and long your thighs-- you’re a squirter, you’ve recently learned to love it, as well as Robert. His fingertips leave your clit finally, both hands slapped onto your thighs in a tight hold. Your hips pulled up in the air, ass completely off of the mattress and you sob, you wail, you begin to cry as you’re plowed into and forced into the rough over-stimulation and a few moments later you’re released gently, set onto the bed.

He trades his supine position for height, rising to his knees to stroke his weeping cock, catching precome on his fingers to smear slick over the tip. A litany of words are shooting from his lips, a collection of,  _ good boy _ , and  _ your pretty little cunt treats daddy so well, _ and you feel like you could cum again, but you’re far too tired, too wrung out.

Robert’s hand slides over his cock quickly, thumb and index finger twisting around the head to focus on the sensitive underside and within a matter of moments, thick ropes of capitulation is adorning your chest, spreading across your cheeks and you even feel the burn of it in your left eye. You hadn’t closed them fast enough, and you can feel the hot seed dripping from your eyelashes, onto the rosy apples of your cheeks and staining them. The sound of panting is loud in the quiet bedroom, and it’s not just from Robert but from yourself. You swallow thickly, your good eye cautiously opening, peeking up at Robert to see that he too, is painted a soft pink. He’s staring at you, lips parted open as his eyes can’t figure out which to settle on. He closes his mouth, opens it. Closes it again. He opens it to speak and you’re growing redder by his timid question.

“Baby, you have to let me take a photo. You look so good like that, you know..” You bite your abused lip and it tastes of Robert. Your tongue swipes over your bottom lip slowly, eyes narrowing a fraction and you nod a little. You know you look like every stage of debauchery, but you know you couldn’t possibly look bad with it because it got Robert blushing. He’s fumbling for the pants he discarded, pulling out said phone and opening the app. You didn’t know it, at least not yet, but Mary would be getting these. She was his best friend, she’d be appalled if she didn’t get them. That was Robert’s reasoning as he snapped shot after shot of you in different angles.

Robert grabs a t-shirt, you think it’s yours, and begins to gently wipe your face and chest clean. You were going to make Robert do your laundry if he kept treating your clothing like tissues, and you nearly would have last week when you accidentally put on a cum stained pair of pants and went to Joseph’s youth event. You had hastily went home, excusing yourself under the pretense of leaving the burners on in your kitchen. No one questioned it.

Eventually your wrists are free and your shoulders are burning with lactic acid and it feels heavenly to yank Robert down to the bed and curl up into the crook of his neck. His heavy arm strewn across your bare hip, his knee pressed between yours. He kisses the bridge of your nose between your eyes, and they flutter closed. It’s dark now, no doubt heading for 9. You don’t say anything and neither does Robert. You’re both smiling though, and that says something.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr at m0thmvn (dream daddy side blog tbh) my requests are open and probably will always be so dont be shy and also please comment so i know if im doing something right ♡


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